No, not a knight of the realm, or a night of bliss, although there were some blissful bits…

Last night was extremely hot here at Seventeen Mile Rocks (or is it Seventeen Miles Rock? We do have big rocks in Australia!). It was so hot that I couldn’t bear even the white cotton sheet over me. Prolonged physical contact was out of the question; we just lay on the bed and took pleasure in knowing that the other was there. As it was dark, I was sometimes unsure if he was still there, then I would reach out my hand and find him; he responded by stretching out a leg, that I might feel inclined to stroke it… right down to his foot. Luckily for him, I love his foot (just the one – only joking) almost as much as I love my own being stroked and caressed. He, too, made overtures in the darkness; every so often he would prod me gently, massage my knee, or glide an arm over my hip or thigh to confirm that he was with me. Or maybe he wanted to know if I was still awake…

Of course I was awake. The sliding window was open as far as it would go, the blinds were up and the curtains drawn back to allow any slightest breeze the opportunity to pass through into the bedroom, although there wasn’t so much as a wisp of wind last night and the “Crim – safe” insect screens deter the fresh air as well as the criminals. But our sleeplessness owed less to the lack of fresh air, or the light that came in unhindered by thick curtain material, or the intense heat, than to something else outside. Just behind the six-foot wooden side fence was something much worse…

I recognised the bark of the Staffordshire Terrier next door. He’s normally part of the dawn chorus – his falsetto howl, followed by a tenor bark, in discord with the alto  crows (and the kookaburras in the distance laughing about the cacophony) – but for some reason he barked and barked, and barked, without let-up, until the early hours. Sometime just before dawn – I guessed (no clock on the modern fan but a constant blue light informing of the variations in temperature – it was a little cooler at 27c) – even the loving attentions of my bed companion were of little solace to a woman terribly tired and heartily fed-up with the interminable barking. I wondered that no irate neighbours had shouted out into the night air, “Shut the dog up or I will!” (someone would have said that, or worse, years ago when people were not afraid to stand up for their rights).

For a long time I waited. I waited for a man’s voice. I anticipated the threat of a gun or an axe – in the very least, a fist – but nothing came. I stood up and, like a convict, put my face close to the “Crim-screen” and looked out.

“If no-one will do it I will,” I thought.

I took a deep breath and cried out, equally as loud as the dog next door, and with a hint of sarcasm:

“Woof, Woof!”

The shocked dog stopped. Startled Sterling jumped up from the bed for a split second, realised it was just me, and rested his head back on the sheet; he seemed to know I would come back to him. Archer raced into my bedroom, ready for action.

“Come on Archer,” I urged and he followed me to the back door. “Go get him,” I said as he ran off to the fence.

I slid the bedroom window shut, drew the curtains and turned the modern fan on to maximum (it still said 27c). The fan drowned out the barking and shortly the barking stopped, or else I was simply so tired that I went sleep. Now and then I felt a soft paw stretch out to reassure me that he was still there and I responded by caressing one or another of his beautiful feet. In this way Sterling the cat and I had a few hours of blissful sleep.